Worst Nightmare
by ilovemclife
Summary: On Permanent Hiatus/ Discontinued. "Oh, God. It's all you can think, even though you're not quite sure you believe in God. Actually, you're convinced He doesn't exist. It's irrational, it's emotional, it's instinct. But you can't help it." Post season 4 finale, B&B, H&A
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Bones, although I wish I did.

AN: So, it's been a while since I've published anything, fanfiction or otherwise. This is my first posted Bones fic, although I've been reading in the fandom for several years. I was tired of seeing a lot of post season 6 fics, so I decided to take us back... **This is post season 4**, right after the dream, right after Booth wakes up. There is no Catherine, no Afghanistan or Maluku, no Hannah. Read and enjoy!

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><p><em>Oh, God. <em>It's all you can think, even though you're not quite sure you believe in God. Actually, you're convinced He doesn't exist. It's irrational, it's emotional, it's instinct. But you can't help it. You can't help it.

You stare at you hands as if they're detached – they're someone else's, not yours. Either that, or you're having an out-of-body experience, which is illogical and impossible. But it sure doesn't feel like your hands that have the dark scarlet of his blood trickling down your hands, staining the carpet. You know you should do something – wash your hands, get a towel, help him! Yet you can't move. All you can do is watch.

Your face now upturned, you see him lying on the bed, the perfect, pristinely made bed, but not in peaceful slumber. No, in agonizing pain. His chest is sliced open in a coroner's "y," his organs exposed for viewing. Blood leaks from the crack – for that's what it is, a crack right down the center of him – like water pouring from a pitcher. Up and just to his left, his heart still beats, one-two, one-two, and you watch, engrossed, as it slows. _One_… _two. One_… and a _two. One_…and…a _two._ And then it stops.

You rush forward, no longer paralyzed, fear pounding adrenaline through your veins. From the burn you feel from the inside-out, you must be on fire. You grab his shoulders, shake him, but all it does is jostle his now-still organs until they bulge from the opening as if eager to escape.

His eyes are still open, gazing right at you, but the glaze over the top makes you frantic. You take his face in your hands, but you've forgotten about the blood. It runs from your hands down his cheeks, down his chin into his partially open mouth. You scream his name, glare into his eyes, but get no response.

It's too late.

Sobs violent wrack your body as you hold him to you, passed caring about his exposed body and its affect on your appearance. He bared himself to you, he opened up, but you weren't ready. You weren't ready.

And now it was too late.

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><p>Brennan jolted with a start, sitting upright before her eyes fully opened. She blinked several times and then glanced around, trying to take in her surroundings. A hand-carved wooden table. A badly upholstered green chair. A string of beads covering a doorway. Several large canvases, a few filled. There was a painting of two hands, intertwined. Also, a man's face, half in red, half in blue.<p>

"Angela?" she called out groggily, recognizing the shabby but comfortable living room of her best friend's apartment. She heard a startled exclamation, the bang of what sounded like cabinets, and then hurried footsteps before Angela brushed the beads aside and stood before her.

"Sweetie," Angela breathed, offering a genuine but wary smile. She paused for a moment, surveying the woman on her couch before moving to sit at her feet.

"What?" Brennan bristled at the expression on Angela's face. She generally wasn't good at reading people, but Angela looked afraid, like she was approaching a volatile and dangerous criminal – not her genius yet socially awkward best friend.

"Bren, are you okay?" Angela peered at her curiously, searching her face. As Brennan's brow furrowed, Ange moved her gaze to her lap, watching her hands fiddle with the hem of her shirt.

Brennan cleared her throat. "I had a nightmare just now, but other than that…" She paused, noticing that Angela still refused to meet her gaze. "Ange, what's going on?"

Angela looked up, surprised. "You don't remember?" At the shake of Brennan's head, she continued. "Booth woke up early this morning and… he was pretty upset."

The past week's events flooded Brennan's mind. Sweets. Response game. Babies. Booth. Hallucinations. The tumor. Surgery. Coma. Awakening. Confusion. Anger. Tears.

Tears. She couldn't help that they sprung to her eyes, and without her permission they leaked out and rolled down her face. She brought her hands to her cheeks, but the tears came faster than she could wipe them away. Pretty upset was an understatement.

"Oh, _Sweetie!__" _Angela exclaimed, leaning forward and pulling Brennan into her arms. She rubbed a soothing hand up and down her friend's back, trying to calm her tears. Several minutes ticked by, but finally Brennan pulled back.

"Can I see him?"

Angela sighed. Of course. Even after he'd caused her all this pain, the first thing on her mind was visiting to give him company and comfort. She bit her lip, hemming and hawing, before deciding to answer truthfully.

"I don't think that would be the best idea, Bren. For either of you." Her eyes flickered to her lap. "Plus you've been temporarily barred from the premises."

Brennan would have laughed if she hadn't been so hurt. "He hates me," she declared, burying her face in her hands.

Angela groaned and wrapped an arm around Brennan's back. "He doesn't hate you," she scoffed. "He's just… confused."

Brennan straightened up and turned to look at her. "It seemed more like he was angry, to me."

Angela sighed. She rubbed her hand up and down Brennan's back absently. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes before Angela offered, "How about I get Hodgins to go and keep us updated?"

Brennan blinked, her eyes rimmed red. "Why don't you just go?"

Angela looked away, guilt reflected on her face. "I don't want to leave you alone right now." When she looked back up though, Brennan seemed nothing but understanding.

"Thanks Angela," Brennan whispered, turning to pull her friend in for a hug. For a moment Angela was tense, but then she relaxed and gave Brennan a squeeze of her own. Brennan wasn't usually one for physical affection, but Booth's guy hugs always made her feel better. At that thought, Brennan pulled her friend in tighter.

Guessing where her thoughts were, Angela whispered back. "You're welcome, Sweetie."

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><p>Booth looked up at the knock on his door. Hodgins was leaning against the door jam. Booth nodded to the bedside chair, but Hodgins hesitated at the entrance. All of the equipment and furniture in the room had been reorganized while Booth was sedated, though this time everything was positioned out of his reach.<p>

"Angie says she won't stop crying." Hodgins crept into the room, hands jammed into his pockets. He took a seat in the chair Brennan had been occupying for the past four days. "Took her three hours to get her to fall asleep. And she woke up twenty minutes later, crying all over again." Booth tried to read him, but Hodgins' face stayed impassive.

Booth felt a twinge in his stomach, and recognized it vaguely as guilt before tossing it away. He had made Bones cry… that was not something he ever wanted to do. But right now, that barely registered. All he could think about was how devastated _he_ was. Booth turned his head away stubbornly, no longer able to face Hodgins' emotionless, concentrated gaze. It reminded him too much of her.

The tension was palpable, but finally Hodgins coughed. "She wanted to come see you." That made him turn his head. Once it became clear that Booth wasn't going to talk, Hodgins continued. "Angela didn't think that would sit too well with anyone… and she said something about visiting restrictions…"

Booth tightened his jaw. He should have known. "So you're here." He tried his hardest to sound detached, noncommittal, but even he could hear the resentment in his voice.

Hodgins sighed. "Yes… But I care, man. You gave us all a scare there. I'm glad you're back."

Booth just grunted, turning to look out the window.

Hodgins sighed again, then waited. Nothing. He cleared his throat. "So, what happened?" He waited patiently, not expecting a response.

Booth's jaw tightened and then released. "I had a dream."

"Whoa, harnessing your MLK junior, there?" Hodgins chuckled.

"No," he groused, sending Hodgins a glare to silence him. "About us."

"Us?" Hodgins' eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

"No!" Booth shouted. "Me and… Bones. And you, Angela, Cam, Sweets… You know, us."

"Really?" Hodgins looked skeptical. He'd been comatose for four days and his subconscious chose to dream about the squints?

"Yes."

Hodgins paused. "Is this what happened between you and Dr. B?"

Booth shrugged. Finally, "I don't want her to know."

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><p>AN: Well? Please review. Criticism more than welcome. Already have the next four chapters written and edited, so more coming soon...<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Bones.

AN: Thank you so much for all of the reviews, alerts and favorites! Reviewers, I'm going to thank you individually, but I wanted to update this first. Hope you enjoy!

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><p>"<em>Who are you?"<em>

_Those three words took her breath away. She stumbled back, and it took her a moment to regain comprehensible thought. She sucked air into her lungs in one sharp breath, not able to recall when she'd exhaled_ _the last one. Her mind was racing. She tried to organize her thoughts, to push everything back, but her thoughts wouldn't cooperate. "Booth…" she whispered, as if afraid he were brittle and any loud noise would break him completely._

_Seeing no recognition or response, she tentatively continued. "I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan, your -."_

_But she didn't get to finish. Eyes steely, he interrupted her. "What, Bones? My what?" His speech was terse and demanding. Yet, his expression remained stoic, emotionless._

"_Booth?" A wave of relief flooded her. She rushed forward, unable to contain herself. Right then, she didn't care what she revealed – deep, dark or personal. She was just thankful he was back._

_When she reached him, he grabbed her wrists and held her at bay. Wasn't he the one who usually forced embraces in the form of 'guy hugs?' "Come on, Bones, who are you?" His voice had that no-nonsense tone she'd occasionally heard when he addressed a misbehaving Parker._

_This stopped Brennan dead in her tracks. Her surprise showed on her face. Swallowing down the apprehension and confusion, she forced herself to answer, at least in the way she could. "I don't understand the question," she replied timidly._

_Booth used his grip on her wrists to force her away. His face finally showed emotion – irritation bordering on disgust. "What do you mean, you don't understand the question? Who. Are. You?" The animosity behind his words nearly made her tremble._

_Brennan sucked in a deep breath. He'd just undergone massive brain surgery and was highly medicated. He was just severely disoriented. A rational explanation would most likely calm him, at least until a doctor could see him. "Well, Booth, you keep calling me 'Bones.' This implies that you have some memory of me, and in-depth enough to refer to me by the moniker you assigned to me. Still you ask me who I am…"_

"_Bones!" His shout made her jump. He slammed his hands down on the bed and his face was livid. Brennan could see the vein in his neck pulse violently. _

"_I'm Doctor Temperance Brennan," she rushed, eager to placate him. "I'm a forensic anthropologist at the Jeffersonian Institution in Washington, D.C. I have a brother, Russ. My mom was a book-keeper and my dad was – is – a science teacher and - ."_

_His eyes flashed with recognition. "I know who you are, Bones." His voice had clamed, yet his posture remained tense and his expression peculiar._

"_Then why - ?" She begged, her voice incredulous._

"_But who are you to me?" He blurted, anxious. He leaned towards her and she felt compelled to pull back. His eyes were manic, wild, and it made her stomach clench._

"_Booth, you're not making any sense." Now she was pleading, her eyes wide and palms open. She'd been hoping – praying! – for days that he'd wake up, but now she wasn't so sure that this was any better. She still didn't have the Booth she knew and - ._

"I'm_ not making any sense!" He boomed, eyes flaming – she wouldn't normally say that, but his eyes looked so bright and furious she could only compare them to a fire. The vein in his neck ticked and the monitor next to his bed beeped faster. _"You're_ the one who wants to have my _baby _but have _nothing_ to do with me. _That_ doesn't make any sense!" He was leaned forward, hands pressed into the mattress._

_Brennan felt faint. Her voice was barely audible over the ringing in her ears and the thumping of her heart. "Booth, we agreed - ."_

"_Who are you, damn it?" He thundered, his voice echoing off the walls. His monitor's beeping continued to accelerate, and Brennan could hear a clamor of activity in the hallway._

_She was frenzied, panicked. "I don't know what you - ."_

"_Damn it!" His face __was red – nearly purple – with the force of his scream._

_She held her hands palm out, not sure if she should rush forward of back away. "Booth," she cried in desperation, a few tears finally leaking out._

"_Who _are you,_ damn it…" His voice was a whisper now, but he wasn't calming. His breathing increased, shallow and labored. He panned around wildly, kicking off his blankets and turning to push away his machines and IVs. The patient bedside table tumbled over, the pitcher smashed against the wall and the water inside splashed haphazardly in all directions. The lamp in the corner crashed to the ground, the light bulb bursting upon impact._

_A team of personnel dashed into the room, pushing a crash-cart to the bedside at hyper-speed. Before she could even comprehend what was happening, a hand was on her arm, dragging her outside. She tugged, trying to glimpse his face or hear his monitor, but her resistance was futile. She turned, spinning out of her captor's grasp, and sprinted down the hall. Only managing to get a few rooms away, she reached out to touch the wall and slid down it, completely drained. Only then did she truly let her tears fall._

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><p>Hodgins flopped back in his chair, stunned. "Whoa, man."<p>

Booth sighed and put his head in his hands. "Tell me about it," he groaned.

"You and Dr. B were married? And pregnant?" Hodgins shook his head disbelievingly. "This is too good to be true."

"Exactly." He didn't mean for it to come out like it had, but if he thought about it for even a second… It was the utter truth.

"What…" Hodgins froze, stumped. "Oh, man… You've got it bad."

It was Booth's turn to flop. He rested his head back against his pillows, exhausted from just thinking about this whole mess. He expelled all the air from his lungs in one heavy sigh. "And _that_ is what happened between me and Bones."

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><p>AN: Well? Just to clarify, Booth told Hodgins about the coma dream. The flashback was to what actually occurred between Brennan and Booth. Let me know what you think!<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Bones, sadly enough.

AN: To clarify, the first scene fills the gap between Brennan and Booth's fight, and when Brennan wakes up at Angela's. The second scene is after Brennan wakes up at Angela's. Thanks so much for all the alerts and the few reviews. Enjoy!

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><p>Angela arrived at the hospital fifteen minutes after she'd gotten the call. She'd had to break a few traffic laws along the way, but she was there. When she burst through the doors of the hospital she went straight to the ICU – where she found Brennan slumped, defeated, against a wall.<p>

Upon seeing Angela, Booth's doctor – who she recognized from after the surgery – approached. "Ms. Montenegro?" He asked quietly, eyes observing the woman on the floor.

"Angela, please." She gushed, anxious. She glanced back and forth between Brennan and the doctor, eager to know what had happened.

"Angela, then." The doctor paused, and Angela's heart sank. "Agent Booth woke up from his coma - ."

"He did?" she burst, eyes glued on Brennan now. She had to have noticed Angela by this point – she was hardly being quiet – but Brennan didn't even raise her head. "Then why's Bren out here, and why does she look - ?"

"Ms. Montenegro." Angela's focus snapped back to the doctor. He cleared his throat. "Angela. There appears to have been an altercation between Mr. Booth and Dr. Brennan."

Angela froze on the spot and then chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Now I definitely think you have the wrong two. Bren and Booth? They're inseparable. An altercation?" She shook her head. "Wrong people. Now, just tell Bren she can go right back on in, and I assure you - ."

"I assure you_, _Angela, that I am not mistaken." Brennan finally looked up at the nearby pair. Her eyes shown with confusion and fear. Above all, though, she looked… _lost._

"What happened?" Angela breathed, her eyes riveted on her best friend. Under the intense scrutiny, Brennan ducked her head again and continued to slump, just like she'd been doing when Angela arrived.

"We don't know." The doctor shook his head. "But Mr. Booth was tachycardic – his heart rate was above a safe level – and the nurses at their station said they could hear shouting. We had to heavily sedate Mr. Booth even before a precursory examination. We really would have preferred not to, with his poor reaction to the anesthesia, but he left us with no other choice. He might have given himself a stroke, so soon after brain surgery, if we didn't calm him down." All the while they stared at Brennan, whose knees were pulled up to her chest with her head resting upon them.

"Oh my God." It had to be true, because Angela could see no reason why Brennan would not be in there with him, ecstatic upon his awakening. She'd sat by his bedside for four days, keeping vigil and hoping he would awaken. Nothing could tear Brennan away from Booth… except Booth himself.

"We're afraid," the doctor sighed, "that we've got to ask you to remove Dr. Brennan from the premises. We also ask that she not return until she's heard from one of the other doctors or myself."

"What?" Angela breathed, looking at him incredulously. Keeping Brennan away from Booth… it was heinous, it was impossible.

"We fear that any stress to Mr. Booth so soon might cause him to lapse back into his coma." The doctor shrugged. "Either that, or he might suffer from some other stress-induced condition, like a heart attack or stroke. The best way for Mr. Booth to recover is to keep him relaxed."

Angela nodded. "What do I tell her?" She gestured to Brennan half-heartedly, unsure of what to do or say. She didn't want Bren to rebuild every wall she and Booth had taken so long to tear down. How could she do this without breaking her friend's heart?

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><p>Dr. Brennan entered the Jeffersonian, walking briskly passed the forensic platform and straight towards her office. Her clothes were wrinkled, her face was bare of any makeup, and her hair was thrown up in a half-hearted ponytail. She was even devoid of her usual chunky jewelry, making her seem smaller, frailer, and less confident. The most noticeable difference was her change in demeanor – her head was down, her shoulders pushed forward, and her feet dragged.<p>

She wasn't the same woman.

Dr. Saroyan exited her office upon noticing her co-worker's arrival. "Dr. Brennan?" she asked, concerned. The last she knew, Brennan had been holding vigil at Booth's bedside. If she'd left, did that mean…?

After receiving no comment from Dr. Brennan, who hadn't even paused her movement, Cam continued. "You're here. Is Booth - ?"

Brennan barked an answer without ever turning around. "Talk to Angela." She didn't offer an excuse for her appearance or her brisk, clipped attitude.

Fearful of what had happened, Cam hurried to see her forensic artist, hoping that she'd be in a better mood than her forensic anthropologist.

"Give me good news." Cam clasped her hands together as she approached Angela, who had wandered into the lab after Dr. Brennan.

Angela raised her eyebrows, her face inquisitive. She was emotionally exhausted after her ordeal with Brennan. Angela still hadn't been able to discern what had actually happened. The helplessness she felt, strengthened by her inability to comfort her friend, had taken its toll.

Cam threw her a bone. "What up with Dr. Brennan? I asked her about Booth and she sent me straight to you."

Angela shook her head, but began talking before Cam could assume the worst. "He woke up." She stuck a hand out, indicating to Cam that she wasn't done. "Now before you say anything, it's not so great. I don't know what happened, she won't say, but they got into some sort of fight…"

"A fight? And so soon?" Cam frowned. "That's not like him." Her hand, poised strategically on her hip, showed her confusion and frustration.

"I know." Angela gestured vaguely with a clipboard she had picked up off of her desk. "And what's weirder is that the doctor called me in – I'm one of Bren's emergency contacts, right after Booth, that is – and had me take her home. She was practically catatonic, sitting in the hallway."

Cam raised her eyebrows disbelievingly. This didn't sound at all like the Dr. Brennan she knew.

Angela continued, this time angry. "The doctor barred her from seeing him. Barred her!"

Cam just snorted and smiled. "That's not going to last long."

Angela pointed at Cam with her clipboard. "See, that's what I thought, too. But Brennan… she was really upset. She thinks he's _mad_at her. She even said she thought he _hated_her."

"What?" Both of Cam's hands were on her hips now.

Angela just shook her head. "I don't know what's up with those two. I sent Hodgins to see Booth; hopefully he'll be able to tell us something."

Cam raised her eyebrows. "You sent Hodgins."

Angela shrugged, also doubting the validity of her choice there. Well, what else could she have done? "We'll see."

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><p>The day was proceeding with much progress. Brennan had sorted through three weeks worth of back logged email, she'd caught up on charts she'd yet to complete from the last case, and now she'd finally completed the fourth chapter to her latest novel. Her imagination had been hard to come by, leaving her publisher very unsatisfied. Now, though, she'd have something to send her.<p>

As Brennan clicked off of her word document and logged back into her email, she paused to take a deep breath and revel in the satisfaction of a job completed. Only then did she recognize her hunger, announced by a rather loud "growl" from her stomach. She glanced quickly towards the clock on her computer's dashboard – two sixteen. She'd really gotten "carried away" and had lost track of time, completely skipping lunch.

Thinking nothing of it – with her dedication, she often forgot rudimentary tasks like eating and sleeping – she pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number from memory. While waiting for her call to be answered, she idly browsed her e-mail's inbox, noting that no new messages had come in since the last time she'd checked.

The voice that answered was not the one she'd been expecting.

"Dr. B?" Hodgins had answered, sounding wary. "This might not be the best time…"

She hung up the phone and dropped it as if she'd been burned. She stared at it, on the floor at her feet, where it had landed from its fall.

She'd forgotten. She'd completely forgotten. She'd been so consumed with her work that she'd put it in the back of her mind and hadn't touched it since. She'd acted like it was any normal day, like nothing had happened.

But that wasn't true.

Booth was in the hospital. Booth was in the hospital and he hated her. He hated her and there was nothing she could do about it.

Brennan quickly stood up from her desk and exited her office, leaving her cell phone abandoned on the floor. She headed to "Limbo" – bone storage, she corrected herself – determined to be just as efficient as she had been earlier in the day.

But she wasn't sure if she was capable of forgetting again.

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><p>AN: Well, what do you think? I love the response to this story, through alerts and visitorshits, but I'd love some feedback. Please, please review, even if to say "good" or "horrible you are ruining the sacred fandom that is Bones."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Still don't own Bones.

AN: Thank you for all of the response to this story! Can't believe all of the hits and alerts. Pretty please review?

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><p>Angela knocked on the entranceway to bone storage, sincerely worried about her friend's health. She couldn't go on like this; she simply wouldn't make it.<p>

After getting no response, she sauntered into Limbo and paused right beside the exam table Brennan was working at, waiting patiently until her friend looked up. "Sweetie? You've got to get out of here." Her voice was sympathetic but pleading. Brennan averted her gaze to the pile of bones, laid out in anatomical order. She didn't want to listen. But Angela was going to make her.

"You haven't left in three days." Angela was not giving up. "I know, because you've been here after I leave in the evening and you're here again before I come back. I've checked in with security, Bren. They say you haven't crossed their checkpoint in days. They thought you'd gone on vacation. That's not healthy. You should go home - ."

"Angela, I don't need to go home." Bren kept her eyes trained on the bones when she answered, her fingertips running up the length of the femur, feeling for abnormalities. "I have spare clothes in my office and I can wash up in the decontamination shower. There's nothing at home that I can't have here."

Brennan's hands hesitated over the bones, not quite sure what to do next. Angela noticed and took advantage of her friend's hesitation. "What about a home-made meal? A nice, warm bed? A good night's sleep?"

Brennan's hands halted completely, but she didn't dare look up. "I wouldn't be sleeping anyway…" Her voice was so quiet, Angela was sure she wasn't supposed to have heard the comment made under her breath.

Still, she was flabbergasted. "What, Sweetie?" Her face heated in anger and frustration – not at her friend, but at the situation. Was Brennan really this devastated? She couldn't _sleep_ now? She wouldn't even try?

Brennan finally turned away from the bones to look at Angela head-on. Brennan's posture was rigid, her hands, gloved, hanging at her sides. "Angela, I know you're concerned about me, but I'm fine. I've never worked this efficiently, in fact. I'm fine. Booth's…" She stumbled after his name. "Fine, I'm sure. We're both fine, so your concern is unwarranted."

She turned to go back to her work, but Angela stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder. "Is it?" Her head titled to the side, she leaned in close, trying to reach down deep into the sentimental part of her friend that she knew existed. "Bren, the last time you and Booth were separated for this long, you were catatonic. You wouldn't leave the lab. You wouldn't eat, you wouldn't sleep. You're acting like he's died again!"

Her whisper was bitter and biting. "Maybe he has, to me."

She stormed off towards the main part of the lab, surely to lock herself in her office, where she couldn't be bothered. Angela was left behind, shell-shocked in her wake.

Something had to be done before this damage became permanent.

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><p>After a knock on her office door – she'd opened after a half-hour period; she'd decided she was being childish in her actions. After all, what if someone in the lab needed her? – she looked up to see Sweets standing in the doorway.<p>

The bitterness returned.

Facing her laptop, she clicked back onto her novel, determined to keep working on the manuscript. After several minutes, he still hadn't left and she was unable to focus. She had too much to do, and she needed her concentration back. "Go away, Dr. Sweets. I don't have time for your nonsense."

"It's not nonsense, Dr. Brennan," Sweets entered in spite of her order, sitting himself on her couch. He leaned back, making himself comfortable. This was not going to be a short stay. "Even though you like to discredit psychology at every chance you get. And I'm not going away. Your friends have become concerned - ."

"They have no reason to be. I'm perfectly fine."

Maybe this was the wrong tactic, but it was his only angle. He shook his head, trying to clear it. "They're concerned about your mental health." He clasped his hands in his lap, starting at Brennan, waiting for her rebuttal.

"My mental health?" She stood up, angered, and sauntered towards him. Bingo. "If you're concerned about mental health, Dr. Sweets, you should be going to see Booth. He's the one who underwent massive brain surgery and who was comatose for four days." She couldn't help it if her anger seeped out into her words.

"Why don't you talk to him yourself, Dr. Brennan?" He gestured towards the armchair across from him, and although she crossed her arms defensively, she took the seat.

"I don't think that would go so well, seeing how he reacted to me last time," she huffed. She _huffed_? Oh, this was serious.

"How did he react to you Dr. Brennan?" Sweets leaned forward, eager. This was the crux of the matter, right here. So far, no one had any idea of what the 'altercation' that had occurred between them was about. Not even Dr. Hodgins, who'd visited Booth, knew what had incited the argument. "What did he say?"

Brennan looked down at the coffee table, her eyes landing on an FBI coffee cup that Booth had left sitting there. He kept it in the Jeffersonian's kitchenette, for times when they stayed late doing paperwork. He had been there, in her office – had it only been a week ago? – badgering her to finish up her notes for the night. He'd finally succeeded, they'd departed, and he'd left the cup with the promise of removing it the next time he was in her office… She couldn't bring herself to move it.

Brennan forced her eyes away, moving them to focus on her feet instead. "It's unimportant." She cleared her throat and then stood up, looking at Sweets directly. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to - ."

"I do mind." Sweets remained seated and was not phased by her show of authority. "Dr. Brennan, what did he say?" He stared at her, determined to wear her down.

She stared back, her eyes turning glassy. Her knee ticked, revealing the impatience and hurt she'd been trying to mask. "He asked me who I was, alright?" She was forced to turn away to prevent her tears from falling. "Now will you go?" Her request was whispered, polite, tragic. He almost wanted to give in, but he couldn't. Not yet.

"Does Agent Booth have amnesia?" Sweets knew this wasn't the case from Hodgins' visit, but he had to work her if he wanted to get any answers. His voice sounded flabbergasted. His skills in manipulation had improved, especially on an unsuspecting Brennan. "Did he forget you?"

Brennan turned her back on Sweets, walking over towards her book case. There Jasper and Brainy Smurf waited to mock her. "I don't know." Her voice was laced with tears.

Sweets was bewildered. He stood, approaching her. She turned to find herself corned by him. "How could you not know?" The incredulity was plain in his tone.

"I don't know!" She shouted back, feeling defensive and unable to stop herself. "He asked me who I was, but then started calling me 'Bones.' Whatever I said, he wasn't satisfied. I didn't know what to do, didn't know what to say. How could I when I didn't know what he was asking? I tried, but I didn't know! I didn't know. He got so angry and…" She faltered, turning away and collapsing back into the armchair, her hand rising up to hover above her throat.

Sweets continued to prod, but this time softly. "And what, Dr. Brennan?" He retreated back to his own seat across from her, giving her space.

She inhaled a shaky breath and raised her hands to wipe away the tears that had yet to fall. "And he had to be sedated." Her voice was back to her usual stoicism. "As far as I'm concerned, that's an indicator that he doesn't want to see me again."

Sweets rushed to placate her, leaning so far forward in his seat that he was almost squatting on the floor. "Dr. Brennan, I think this is all one big - ."

"Misunderstanding?" She laughed cynically, standing up slowly and returning to her desk. She sat down slowly, as if the last conversation had aged her. "I don't think so. Goodbye, Dr. Sweets." She turned back to her laptop, already typing furiously away on the keys.

"But Dr. Brennan - ."

She didn't pause in her typing and just continued to work. After waiting for several more minutes, Sweets backed away, defeated. He was going to need a different strategy.

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><p>AN: Well? Let me know what you think in a review!<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Still don't own Bones, unless someone wants to gift it to me?

AN: Here's chapter 5. Yes, Booth finally gets a talking to - or several. There's also a bit particularly fitting, seeing as it's Father's Day. Happy Father's Day, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thanks again for all of the lovely favorites and alerts, and the occasional reviews!

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><p>Two pairs of eyes locked on each other, one from the bed and the other from the doorway. Neither would relent, fighting stubbornly to see who would cave first, before she finally gave in.<p>

"Seeley."

"Camille."

Their usually banter brought a smile to her face. Some things never change. "Don't call me Camille." She crossed the small room to sit beside her, her heels clacking confidently against the linoleum.

"Then don't call me Seeley." He smiled right on back, reaching over to grip her hand in his.

Dissatisfied, she stood and pulled him into a quick hug before sitting back down. "How are you?" She asked gently, genuinely concerned about her friend.

"Alright," he shrugged, "besides a killer headache and a bad case of restlessness. You know they want me off duty for at least five weeks?"

She smiled at his antics. Same old Booth. No matter what'd he'd been through, he couldn't wait to get back. This time, though, she suspected a certain scientist was behind his anxiety to return to the workplace. "It'll be good for you. Spend some time with Parker, get a vacation."

He just nodded in response, and they sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. Certain that their minds were in the same place, he segued right into the question on the forefront of his mind. "How's Bones?"

Cam turned to him and raised her eyebrows, surprised that he could be that naive.

"What?" He questioned, unnerved by her unwavering stare.

She shook her head, rolling her eyes. "She gets barred from hospital premises after seeing you so angry – at her – that you need to be sedated, and you expect good news?"

He waited a beat before responding. "Now, don't put this all on me, Cam - ."

"Who am I supposed to put it on, then?" She asked incredulously. Her hands were in their signature position on her hips. "Certainly not Brennan. She's oblivious!"

"What did she say about me that's gotten you all worked up?" His nostrils flared and his voice jumped in volume.

"That's it, though!" Cam was more assertive than angry. "Nothing! She hardly talks to anyone. Even Angela's been shut out. We had to send _Sweets _in after her." Cam threw her hands up in frustration.

Booth hissed. "You sent in Sweets?" His eyes sparkled like live wires.

Cam sighed, becoming agitated. Her head tilted to the side, her eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly, and her lips tightened. "We didn't know what else to do. She wasn't eating or sleeping, she wouldn't leave the lab. She was – well, is still – acting like she did when you died."

"She didn't give a damn about my death." Booth exploded, clenching the bed sheet tightly in his fists. "She wasn't even crying at my funeral!" His eyes widened, adopting a frenzied quality.

Cam stood slowly, her body rigid. Booth's expression calmed, but his breathing was shallow. Cam breathed in deeply – once. "If you don't think she cared, then you don't know her at all."

Booth stared on in either shocked silence or adamant disagreement – his face was stone, unreadable.

Cam headed toward the door. She turned back only once she'd reached the threshold. "I'll give you some time – and space – to think. It appears that you need it."

Cam closed the door behind herself, effectively shutting him out from the rest of the world. Maybe he needed a little separation. Maybe then he'd be able to see what everyone else on the outside detected instantaneously: he was nothing without her, and she, him.

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><p>Angela and Hodgins stood on the upper level, watching Brennan work on the platform below. Every once in a while, Brennan would scribble something down, discard her gloves and reach for her phone, only to change her mind last minute. She'd don new gloves, begin examining the remains again, and the cycle would restart.<p>

Angela sighed, "This is so wrong! They both love each other but neither one will admit it. Now there's this huge mess because they wont - ."

Hodgins interrupted her with a smile. "Oh, you're wrong there, Ange."

Angela turned to him in incredulity. "When are you going to learn, Jack?" She poked him once in the chest and smirked. "I'm never wrong about Bren and Booth."

Hodgins just shrugged nonchalantly. After a beat, he offered, "Well, yesterday Booth confessed that he and Brennan were married in his coma dream, but said it was too good to be true."

Angela turned to him, dumbstruck, but he just continued to look down on Brennan, pretending not to notice. After several moments of silence, Hodgins turned to find Angela's jaw hanging in disbelief. He nudged her, jarring her out of her shock. She snapped her mouth shut, causing him to chuckle. "What was that about neither one admitting it? And you always being right?"

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><p>Brennan sighed in frustration, and nearly pulled on her hair to release some of the frustration. She'd made little progress on the latest case from Limbo – Bone Storage, she corrected herself again – and she just wanted to work on her manuscript. She couldn't even do that today without messing it up completely.<p>

She disconnected her laptop from the outlet and carried it gingerly to Angela's office. She knocked once and poked her head in. "Ange? Can you do me a favor? I need your help."

Angela shot up from her desk, eagerly approaching her friend. "Sure, Sweetie." She gestured to her couch. "Take a seat, I'm all ears."

Brennan's brow furrowed, but she still took the proffered seat. "I'm not sure what that means, but if it involves purely listening on your part, then that's not what I've come for. I have a computer problem."

Angela slumped slightly, visibly deflated. "Oh. Well, bring it here. I'll see what I can do."

Brennan quickly stood and passed the laptop to her friend.

Angela set the laptop down on the coffee table. "So what seems to be the problem?"

Brennan shook her head and gestured helplessly to the stubborn silver computer. "I was working on my manuscript and deleted the whole file by mistake. I know you said that nothing is permanently wiped from the system. Can you help me retrieve it?"

Angela nodded. "Yeah, no problem. I might get it back to you in pieces, depends how the files were archived. But I should have this back for you before you leave tonight."

Brennan nodded and stood. "Thanks Angela."

"You're welcome, Sweetie." Angela sighed, and Brennan headed off for the platform. Angela called out after her, "And if you'd actually like to talk, I'm here for you too!" But Brennan was already retrieving fresh gloves, and her friend's offer fell on deaf ears.

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><p>A mass of curly blonde hair flung open the door, and bounded on top of the bed. Parker crushed himself to his father in an enthusiastic hug.<p>

Rebecca came following in. "I tried to stop him, but…" She shrugged and smiled, knowing Seeley would understand.

Booth smiled back. "I know, it's okay." He looked down at Parker, who still hadn't let him go. Booth smoothed back the hair on his son's forehead. "Hi, bub. How are you?"

"I'm good, daddy." Parker mumbled into his father's chest. "I missed you!"

Booth pulled him in tighter, not wanting to let go. He closed his eyes briefly, letting himself absorb everything from the moment. He whispered back, "I missed you too, buddy."

After another few seconds of emotional silence, Parker pulled back slightly. He wanted to look up into his dad's face, but he still wanted to keep close contact – his knees brushing his father's legs, hidden underneath the blankets. "So, are you all better now, daddy?"

Booth smiled. "Mostly, bub. I just gotta stay here for a bit while the doctors check out a few things."

Parker took a closer look at his dad, now noticing the bandage around his father's head and the IV line still inserted into his arm, right on the inside of his elbow. "Like what?"

"Like to see if I can still work as I used to, catching bad guys and stuff."

Rebecca, hovering just inside the doorway, looked around for a bag or laptop on the nearby chair or end table, but found none. She frowned. "Speaking of work, Seeley, where's Dr. Brennan?"

Booth looked down at Parker, who was listening attentively and waiting for an answer. "She… um… She had to go back to work. Lots of dead things to catch up on."

Parker seemed to accept the answer, averting his gaze the blanket on his father's bed and beginning to pick at the loose threads along the edges. Rebecca raised her eyebrows, but after Booth's pointed glance, she allowed the subject to drop.

Parker kept toying with the blanket, but looked back up to his dad. "Daddy, it took you so long to wake up."

Booth looked to Rebecca quickly, and then back to his son. Again, he smoothed back Parker's hair, pushing it out of his eyes. When had it gotten so long? "I know, bub, my brain was just resting."

Parker nodded. "That's what Dr. Bones said. She said we should just wait, so I did. And we also prayed together, because she said that would help too, and she was right! She must've been, 'cause - ."

"Parks, you prayed for me?"

"'Course, daddy." Parker giggled. "That's what _you_ always do when something bad happens – well, that's what Dr. Bones said."

"She did?" Again, Booth glanced to Rebecca, who confirmed with a silent nod.

"Yeah dad." Parker now twisted the corner of the sheet in his hands. He twisted and let go, twisted, and let go. "And she also said that I could come visit you anytime I wanted and she'd come get me and we could pray together." He abandoned the blanket edge and picked up his father's hand instead, playing with his fingers. "And she said that when I prayed at bedtime, I should pray for you then, too. And it worked because now you're awake and are better. You're gonna come home soon, right?"

"Yeah, bub, I'll get to come home soon." For once, Booth was glad that Parker was easily distracted and wasn't looking his way. He swallowed hard, trying to keep a smile on his face.

"Daddy can you thank her for me when she's done with work stuff and you see her again?" Parker laced his fingers through his father's. "That'll be soon, right?"

This time, Booth knew Rebecca would have something to say – either verbally or through the silent communication they seemed to favor around their son. When he glanced over, Rebecca just raised her eyebrows again and tilted her head expectantly.

Booth nodded. "Yeah, it'll be soon, bub. And I sure will."

After Parker gave Booth one last hug, Rebecca asked him to go say thank you to the nurses while she talked to his dad.

When Parker was out of earshot, Rebecca shook her head at him. "I don't know why she's not here, Seeley, but she's certainly not at work. She never left you, not even for a few minutes to run down to the main floor and grab something to eat. She absolutely wouldn't leave you now."

Booth looked down at his blanket and fiddled with the edges, just as Parker had done a few minutes before.

Booth looked up when a hand touched his. "What ever happened, fix it. She's worth holding on to."

She gave his hand a squeeze before one final goodbye. She shut the door behind her, leaving Booth alone to think: _what have I done? _

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><p>AN: Well? Longest chapter to date. Please review! I have outlines for approximately the next two chapters, but it will be a bit longer between updates then it has been. Hope you enjoyed!<p> 


	6. AN

Hey everyone! Sorry to disappoint, but this is not a new chapter. Unfortunately, I worked 40 hours a week for the last few weeks, and in two days I'm leaving for college. So for now, this fic is on the back-burner. However, I do have an outline for the story and it will not be abandoned. Hopefully some of you will still be interested when I finally get a chance to update. Thanks for reading and understanding!


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